They are not mine
Missing scene from the S4-opener.
Nothing more to lose
She had so much expected her to show up that she didn't even blink as the hologram flickered into existence right next to her.
"Hello, Rommie," she said, not looking up from her flexi.
"Hello, Beka. Can I speak to you for a moment?"
Frowning down on the data she held in her hands, Beka waited an instant before rising her head slowly with an imperceptible sigh.
"Of course," she said quietly, dropping the flexi down on the table. "But I don't think that there is anything more to say."
"So it is really final? You are actually leaving?"
The captain of the Eureka Maru eyed the beautiful face in front of her for a second, before letting her gaze wander around the small space across the bar of her ship.
"What if I was?"
"It would be a pity," the warship's hologram said matter-of-factly. "Anything I can do to change your mind?"
"I doubt it."
"Anything someone else could do to change it, then?"
"Don't think so." The answer came back sharply, almost as prompt as the previous one had been. Almost. But not quite. For Andromeda's ears the slight hesitation lasted long enough.
"I am sorry, Beka," she offered in her crisp way. "I tried, I really tried to make him speak to you."
The pilot's eyes went wide, while her mouth opened slightly. But then she shook her head. There was no point denying. Her face seemed tired, older as she finally gave in.
"And?" Admitting that she cared by uttering this single, small word seemed to cost her more strength than a workout. Still: there seemed to be a tiny sparkle of hope in her eyes, safely hidden away under a layer of coldness.
The hologram shook her head, her face a mask of sadness.
"He just told me that a captain doesn't ask."
Beka's shoulders slightly sagged forward for an instant, before she straightened herself up.
"Would it have mattered?" the warship's image asked her.
She simply shrugged her shoulders.
"What does that matter now?"
-
They ate breakfast in silence, seated at different tables, pretending not to notice the other's drawn, pale face. There had at first been more people in the officers' mess, but they all left – one after another – in a hurry after painfully noticing the deafening, tense silence between the captain and the first officer of the Andromeda Ascendant.
In the end there were but the two of them left in the room. As Beka finished her meal, meticulously rearranging the items on her tray before standing up to dispose of it, Dylan felt almost like choking on his last bite as she passed by him, nearly cringing at the thought that this was probably the last time he saw her.
"Beka..."
She had almost reached the doors before the call, more a hoarse, low croak really, got through to her. Slowly she turned around, seeming unwilling to so much as look at him. When she finally met his gaze, her eyes widened. But she did not come nearer.
He swallowed, pushed back his tray, leaned back on his chair. His eyes did not leave her face, but he didn't say anything further. A sad understanding seemed to sink on her traits, and she nodded softly.
"You'll have my resignation on your desk by tomorrow," she told him quietly. "Although I doubt that the Commonwealth still exists, there is no point in risking getting you into trouble by not respecting standard procedure."
"Beka..." He struggled for words, visibly angered by her statement, but forcing down his disappointment by pressing his lips together. Taking a deep breath, he then tried anew:
"Beka, please sit down for a minute." His voice sounded soft, in spite of the strain in it. She briefly closed her eyes.
"Beka, please. I... I'd like a word with you. Could you try to listen me out?"
As if dragged in by an irresistible, yet highly unpleasant pull, the woman approached his table and sat down facing him. Silence settled in, as they both looked at each other, him relieved to see her stay, her expecting him to talk, to say something – anything. As the stillness prolonged itself, she felt impatience blossoming up within her.
"Well?" she asked in the end. He tiredly rubbed his face with his hands.
"I'm sorry, it's been... It's been a long night." He dropped his gaze on the table, leaning on one elbow and covering his mouth partly with his hand. But then he looked up at her. "I want to know something... Why are you leaving, Beka?"
It took her by surprise. She had expected a speech, some impressive talk about the Commonwealth, an appeal at her sense of duty... Anything but a straight, direct question concerning her motives. For a brief instant she thought of avoiding an answer, but then she saw again his eyes looking at her intensely – and she reconsidered.
"May-be..." she scanted thoughtfully, "maybe I'm just pretending. Up until now I don't seem to have gotten all too far, did I?"
"Where would you like to go?"
She laughed up. It didn't sound like laughing.
"Doesn't really matter, I think. It's not about going somewhere, just about getting away – finding a way out; I don't care which one... I'm just trying to avoid all those looks I fear. I think I've lost my way, Dylan – and that's not a confession that I like to make."
"I know," he almost whispered. "But you can't hide from it. All you can do is hiding away the doubts..." His voice didn't sound too certain.
"Is that really so?" she asked him sadly. When he didn't answer, she shook her head determinedly. "What good does it do to hide away what is there plainly for everyone to see ? Nice try, but in the end the only one you end up deceiving is yourself," she told him bitterly. "Don't you feel that way, too?" As Dylan stubbornly persisted in staring past her, refusing to meet her eyes, she leaned over the table and reached for his arm, holding it in a firm grip. "Do not tell me, Dylan, that you don't have this strange feeling of getting further and further away from yourself, that there is some point that you seem to be missing more and more..."
Still avoiding her, he turned his head upwards, staring at the ceiling and sighing, before he then looked back at her, frowning:
"This isn't about me, Beka. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying. I am not yet going to make the balance of what's won and lost; I spent too much time trying to recapture some ball that I didn't lose in the first place, to give up on it now. I have to keep going!" He sounded almost pleading.
"Why? Why push it further? We tried. We failed. Why can't we just move on? Why can't you leave it, Dylan?
"Because of all those nights I spent in the middle of untold nightmares, staring at my mistakes, covering up my fears..." He looked away as if ashamed by the confession, his voice becoming a whisper. "Because of all these days spent running like a madman, pushing beyond my limits, even if I'm ending crawling on my knees, even if all of it proves to move too fast for me..." Standing up in a forceful move, that threw back his chair, he started pacing around. "I can't give up, Beka!" he exclaimed violently. "I just can't!"
She stared at him in silence. So much excessive self-confidence, so much excessive self-doubting, all this excessive self-indulgence... Well, to each one! Beka thought somewhat exasperated. Before she could voice her opinion on his musings, he went on abruptly:
"I fought too long, Beka, to learn the things you never told me, to understand that others can never know for you..."
She gasped.
"Come again? The things I never told you? I tried to tell you all there is to know, Dylan. It's just that you never listen."
"You never told me straight." He did not sound reproachful, just matter-of-factly.
"Well," she told him slowly, "that's because I don't have as many certainties as you do, no morally raised index finger. All I can offer you is a certain unease I feel facing jerks. And some stammered advice, because I find it hard to pick the right words when confronted with hate and with evil..."
He stopped in front of her, looking at her as if he saw her for the very first time in his life. Or last time, he thought bitter.
"I can't give up, Beka!" he said once more, despair now obvious in his voice. "And I can't do it alone, either..."
And with that he simply turned around and left, almost fleeing the room, her presence, his admittance...
Staring after him, Beka seemed nearly frozen. As the hologram of the Andromeda Ascendant appeared next to her, she did not change her expression, merely turned her head towards the flickering image.
"So much for 'a captain doesn't ask'..." the pilot told the warship. It did not sound ironical. If anything, it sounded a bit surprised. "What do you make of that, Rommie?"
"That was not the captain. That was Dylan. And you very well know it," Andromeda informed her.
"Why did he do it, Rommie?"
"His time, his folks, the Commonwealth, Tarn Vedra, Gaheris, Sara, Rev, Tyr..." the ship enumerated in a toneless voice. "He played a risky game, gambling with his life. And if you go now, Beka, he's got nothing more to lose. Nothing but himself. And with Dylan being Dylan... Whatever happens, Beka, whatever you decide, he'll stay a man of action, determined, energetic... But he will become dangerous. And I think he knows it."
A thoughtful look on her face, Beka bit her lips. After a while she shook herself lightly, as if getting rid of a bad dream or vision:
"You mean: more than dangerous than now?" She briefly smiled: "The Universe not ready for two Patriarchs, hm?"
"Something like that, yes..."
Beka shook her head doubtfully.
"He's not like that, Rommie, not like that at all."
"I bet Admiral Stark wasn't like that either, when she started out..."
For a short moment they simply stayed in silence. And then the Andromeda's XO stood up from her chair.
"You know, Rommie, staring at this darkness Tyr called up when he left, I almost forgot for a brief, short moment that the best things in life are still waiting for us. However, one of these days Dylan will have to tell me why Tyr really left."
"One of these days, Beka, I'm sure he will do so. Right now, however, he just needs you all to stand by him."
"Well, he's got us. We are standing by him..." And as the hologram disappeared from sight, she added lowly, gently: "I always will. I promised – long ago..."